


Pushing Up Daisies

by WinchesterNimrod



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, But it's not really crack, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Grumpy Old Men, I'm Bad At Tagging, Male Self-Insert, Misunderstandings, Self-Insert, Swearing, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-01 03:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13285707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterNimrod/pseuds/WinchesterNimrod
Summary: A grumpy, irritable old man is tossed into the Naruto-verse as Sasuke's twin brother and has a generally miserable time.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FanFiction. net.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words underlined mean Kento is speaking in English (as requested by a reader, honestly why didn't I think of that)

 

 

. - .

Uchiha's and Hyūgas do not mix well. Everyone knows that. Civilians know that.

Itachi's dearest little brother, apparently,  _didn't._  Otherwise he wouldn't have approached the kid in the first place.

"Go suck a bag of wet dicks you pompous little arsehole!" Fury and hatred radiated in Itachi's little brother's form. Tiny fist waggling in the air. "If I ever see your beady little eyes again, I'll shove them so far down your throat you'll poop them out next morning!"

Itachi swoops into the Academy's playground faster than Gai could ever hope to achieve and appears behind his baby brother, hefting him under one arm.

"Yah! Who dares - "

"Excuse us," Itachi politely nods to the stunned Hyūga boy - mouth open in speechless shock - before vanishing just as quickly. Leaping to the trees that surrounded the Academy and taking flight home.

He knew picking his baby brother up early was a good idea.

"Yo, you're forgetting the trash."

Itachi turns tail back to the Academy. "Don't call your twin trash."

_"Hmpf."_

. - .

Fugakū Uchiha would be lying if he says he's never pondered the thought of sending his youngest child to therapy. Never wondered that he might have accidentally taken the wrong child home from the hospital.

It was only the undeniably facial similarities between himself and Kento that made him stop for a moment and rationalise.

Still, he's not delirious enough to not notice that there was something special about his son. And not in a good sense.

"He cursed a Hyūga child?" Fugakū asks, left eye twitching.

Itachi tries to admirably keep his face stoic-looking, but there's this crack of stumped disbelief peeking through that can only be contrived by his youngest, Kento.

"Were there any witnesses?" It was a stupid question and he knew it, but there's always hope...

"It was a very public occurrence."

Hope was for fools.

"Ah," is all he can say.

And Fugakū Uchiha saw the future.

He saw the Head of the Hyūga clan marching dramatically towards his house. White robes flowing behind him, long hair whipping in the wind at his speedy pace. A look of righteous anger in his eyes along with malicious intent. A demon hungry for blood.

His blood.

Because he cannot - for the life of him - control his child.

Fugakū absently wonders, not for the first time, whether Kento were the very manifestation of all his bad decisions in life. All shoved together into one feral verbose child.

Then suddenly there's a frantic rapping sound at his study's window behind him. Fugakū swivels around in his desk chair to glower at the offender.

"For Kami-sama's sake, use the front door!" He barks.

The rapping doesn't stop and he belatedly realises it was soundproof glass. He leans over and unhooks the latch, fully intended to give the person a good verbal lashing for knowing their place and the benefits of front door usage - when the window swoops up and a bedraggled woman clad in Uchiha armour attempts to hoof herself inside. It was so astonishingly inelegant for a shinobi, that Fugakū and Itachi can't help but stare.

"Sir - Fugakū-sama," she pants, straddling the windowsill. "Hyūga-sama is coming this way - I tried to stop him -  _I did sir_ , but he's a man on a mission, sir!" She lumbers inside with redoubled vigour, dropping to the ground in a desperate bow. "Forgive me, sir. I am a failure, sir!"

There's an ominous crash in the room next over along with Mikoto shouting.

Itachi and Fugakū share a look while the woman on the ground whimpers, bolting to his study's door. Intending no doubt to try and keep Hiashi out.

The door swings open theatrically.

"Fugakū-sama, I am here to speak to you about - " Hiashi is cut off as the door rebounds off the woman in a loud  _'oof',_  punching her to the floor and slamming shut. The woman howls on the floor, dazed and defeated.

There's a short pause.

The door is opened slower, more mindful this time, and at last Hiashi steps in. Doing a doing a paranoid check behind the door before shutting it angrily behind him. "Fugakū-sama, I am here to speak to you about your son."

Fugakū covers his snort with a cough. "Of course," he says, keeping his face very still. Gesturing to the seat opposite his desk, he offers, "Have a seat."

Hiashi nods purposefully and strides over, glancing disdainfully at Itachi while he does so. "In private."

"If it makes you feel more comfortable," Fugakū appeases, nodding to Itachi. The boy looks to have an internal battle with himself, managing to simultaneously take a step closer to his father and exit while huffing. Like a bull.

"Itachi."

His boy grabs the fallen comrade and disappears in a swirl of leaves.

"You're here to speak to me about my son, you say." Fugakū shoves all worries to the far recesses of his mind. Instead focusing on the here and now. His face goes into a neutral expression, one used many times over the years. "Which one?"

"Don't play coy, Fugakū." Hiashi abandons the political word play, choosing to get straight to the point. "You  _know_  which one."

"Hmm, do I?"

"Your son both cursed and embarrassed my nephew at the Academy's playground - on the first day. In front of parents, children and important figures of Konoha."

Fugakū lets out a soulless laugh. "Ahh, children will be children."

"Your five-year old son told my nephew to, and I quote, 'suck a bag of wet dicks you pompous little arsehole'." Hiashi arches an immaculate eyebrow, appropriately not impressed.

Fugakū coughs into his hand.

Were Hyūga's even allowed to curse?

"Yes, that does sound bad. Doesn't it."

"Oh indeed."

"I will speak to Kento and have him give an," Fugakū grounds out his words. "Official apology."

Hiashi harrumphs, puffing himself up like a satisfied peacock.

Fugakū has a sudden inane impulse to follow in his son's footsteps and curse him to the gallows. "Is there anything else, Hiashi-sama?"  _You content asshat._

"Teach your son some manners," is all he says before swanning away. Once gone and certain he was alone, Fugakū rests his head in his hands and lets out a long-suffering groan.

. - .


	2. Straight to Hell

****

 

. - .

At the tender age of four and a bit, Kento stews silently in the sandpit. Dark maroon eyes gazing at the pack of wild dwarfs fumbling about the playground with no clear ambition or goal to achieve.

Children.

Like intoxicated adults, only worse.

His fist comes down on the pathetic sandcastle his twin made - because his mama did  _not_  raise him right and he just  _wants to go home_. He was  _bored._  Yellowish brown grains of who-gives-a-crap fold in on itself before skittering around his chubby hand. Besides him he hears Sasuke drop his bucket and begin sniffling. Kento takes that as his cue to skedaddle before Sasuke starts crying and  _wailing_  - the kid's got a set of lungs on him that could wake the dead.

He brushes off the bullshit called sand and paces quickly across the playground. Awkwardly wading himself through midget-sized narcissists until reaching the abandoned swing set. Back in his day, swings were considered the holy-grail of fun. Children of ages and size gathered around like lions waiting to pounce on a baby gazelle. All waiting with untamed patience to have their turn of the swing.

It was  _fun._  The true reason why people journeyed to the park in the first place.

And look at this crap. Empty. No gratitude whatsoever. No appreciation for what's offered to them.

Kento whirls around with a dumbstruck expression on his face. He flings his hands in the air, huffing at their pitiful ignorance. He thought children took any chance they got to sit down.

Or was that teenagers?

Hands on hips, he squints surly at the crack-ridden hellions. They were playing 'ninja'. Dreadful game, he's observed first-hand the violence it involves.

He waves his hands again, this time at the parents.

_You smarmy gits!_

They were idly chatting to one another on the park benches, smiling and gossiping without a care in the world that their children are showing clear signs of psychopathic tendencies. He just watched a girl try to stab her little sister with a plastic kunai.

_Animals._

Kento lolls his head back, groaning at his misfortune.

What a uniquely crap world he's in.

It were times like these - Kento glooms to himself, slouching over to the swing and dropping his pudgy ass in the seat - that he misses his Spaniard neighbour. The older man and himself used to sit on his porch, an esky at their feet and sipping cold beer while muttering obscenities to one another about how the world had gone bloody mad. What with twelve-year olds dressing up like street corner prostitutes and patronising tv commercials advertising chemical gloop they called shampoo. Technology getting smaller and needlessly difficult. Weight loss ads after fast food ads.

He has no one to share his mutual distaste of the world with now, and he has so many complaints waiting to unload on a kindred spirit. Because this world…

Everything about it is just so spectacularly weird.

Ninja, talking toads, child soldiers, run-of-the-mill psychopaths, chakra -  _magic_   _you senseless twits_ , if somebody can spit fire out of their mouths he's calling it magic (this place made his head hurt more ways than his daughter demanding a Rolls Royce for her sixteenth birthday).

Last year his father - who he is older than, how embarrassing - came home with a large, white, fluffy-haired man from work. They were in the kitchen talking about something Kento didn't even bother understanding - he wasn't a linguistics major and Japanese was  _hard_  - but he was intrigued by this new visitor. It was rare he got to see anything interesting, aside from the occasional venture to get groceries with mother (he's trusted to hold the food list because last time Sasuke ate it and almost chocked to death).

And interesting was what he got.

Oh, he will never forget the man upchucking a rugby-sized toad in the middle of conversation like it was the most normal thing to do. Jaw unhinging, green creature covered in slime and saliva  _crawling,_  inch by inch up his throat…

He was impressed. He threw up, but he was impressed.

Also terrified. Kento crapped his diaper out of sheer disbelief.

[That was the sight that really sold him on the notion that he wasn't in Kansas anymore. He was stuck in the Twilight Zone for the rest of his life]

Kento starts swinging slowly, miniature legs dangling from the seat as they stretch back and forth back and forth back and fo- this was getting tedious. He was barely gaining any momentum! Putting some extra vigour and sweat into it, Kento begins to feel the swing shift.  _Aha!_

He guffaws in delight and spends the next few minutes enjoying his first swing in forty or so years. Glancing back to the children behind him he cackles louder than intended.  _Tossers._  Don't know what they're missing.

"Why're you alone?" Kento startles something fierce and whips his head to the left, gaping at the scruffy looking blonde boy.

"You weren't there just a moment ago."

"I wasn't."

Kento scowls, "Why are you breathing my air?" He asks, swaying to and fro in front of the kid like a pendulum.

"Your air?" The kid tilts his head, processing this new information. Oblivious to Kento's scowl. "You own air?"

"Yeah, and you're violating it, so," he makes a shooing motion with his hand. "Fuck off a cliff."

"How can you own air? Can  _I_  own air?"

"Ask your parents."

"I don't have any. Demon's* don't have parents."

Kento gazes unblinkingly at the whiskered child.

_…Demon?_

Oh.

Oh,  _obviously_  demons exist. If grown men can keep living toads inside their bellies, why can't children be demons?

What a fine concept.

"Aah." With an interior shrug he goes back to swinging. "Then ask someone else's parents."

"I can't, they scream an' hit me if I go near 'em."

"Then don't ask anyone, you nut."

"But I want an  _answer," it_  whines. "If I can own air then nobody will go near me an' hurt me - because then they'll be breathin' my air an' that's a crime, right?"

Kento chuckles dryly at the demon. "Yeah, demon-san, that's a crime. There's your answer, now piss off I'm mourning the loss of my Spaniard neighbour."

"What's a Span-ee-yar-ts?"

"Oh for Chrissake!" He wrenches the swing to the side and pettishly kicks the air where the demon stood in it's ratty clothes. "Leave me alone you bloody Demon!" It flinches back with a hurt expression, which quickly morphs into anger.

Now, Kento belatedly realises pissing off a demon wasn't the most wisest decisions he's ever made, so he kind of just freezes for a moment. Glancing around nervously for something to hide behind.

Or sacrifice, he observes a child sleeping in the sun. Resembling road kill.

Perfect.

"I jus' wanna be friends!" It stomps it's foot emphatically.

He whirls back around, donkey-stunned expression on his face

_…What did the little demon say?_

Kento shakes his head with much conviction. "Nah."

"Ya didn't even con-consi-der it."

"...Are there any benefits to being friends with a demon?" Kento asks, genuinely curious. "Do you grant special wishes? Do I have to sell my soul to you in penance? Can you fly? Can you scare off patronising human children and make my trash of a twin shut up about tomatoes and Itachi?"

"Eugh…" the demon blinks in bewilderment. "Ah - uh,  _maybe?"_  Oh? "I'm sorta new at this…"

"Hmmm," Kento finds himself  _very_  interested now. Making friends with a demon could actually help him in the long run. So far what he's seen of this world is that everyone's knee-deep in serial-killer crap - and he wants to be as far, far away from that hot mess as possible. If this demon - abused, lonely, desiring love,  _all of which I can use to my advantage in making the demon dependent on me_  - can hone in on whatever mystical power mumbo jumbo he is capable of, then Kento will have the biggest, baddest bodyguard on the planet (is this even a planet though? He has yet to witness or hear the word 'earth' or 'universe' or 'space' where  _is_  he?). This was the most favourable offer he's gotten since being planted in this hell hole of a place. And if making a deal with the devil would cement his safety, Kento was too old to truly care whether or not his soul will be marked or damned.

"Alright then you whiskered tit," Kento leaps from the swing, stumbling his landing a bit before extending a hand to the demon. "I'll be your buddy."

"bu-bud-te?" the suddenly  _shy-looking_  demon repeats carefully, drawing out the uncertain english wording.

Kento doesn't bother translating most of his words over to Japanese, he finds the entire experience incredibly bothersome. If people can't understand him, fine.

The less who interact with him the better, he concludes.

"It means friend," Kento assures.

"Really?!" shrieks the demon, smile stretching his face and whiskers. "Ya really mean it! I'm ya friend?"

"Hmpf."

"Waaait," it says cautiously, squinting at Kento. "Ya aren't jus' sayin' this 'cause Imma demon an' could probably do some cool stuff, are ya?"

"Yes," Kento replies gruffly. Finding no sense in lying to a demon - a creature that could likely sniff out lies quicker than a bloodhound - that would be stupid. "I'll help you hone your abilities, be your friend and in return I demand you protect me from future threats and do what I say." He waves his still extended hand. "Deal?"

The demon doesn't look like it really understood him, but shrugs nonetheless. "Yea, sure, why the hell not?"

. - .

"So…what's your name?"

After their introduction to one another, Kento had moved them to a wide patch of grass opposite the swing-set. It was sparse of children, all except for one. A kid with the unfortunate hair-style of a pineapple, dozing in the sun as though skin cancer were the least of his worries. Kento felt a sliver of envy at the kid, all he got when he lay in the sun was sweaty.

He also resisted the impulse to ask the child whether he remembered to put sunscreen on, and if he didn't then he should. Skin cancer might come for him when he least expects it and he doesn't want to make his parents cry when they find a suspiciously shaped mole.

Kento grumbles away the thoughts and squishes himself closer to the trunk of the tree, its branches and leaves providing appropriate protection from the sun.  _He_  remembered to put on sunscreen, and yet  _he_  was the one hiding in the shade. Unfair.

"Ano…" the demon fidgets uncomfortably with his dirty white sleeve, body half in the shade and half in sun. His eyes glowed, matching the sky.

How very un-demon like.

"Your…name?"

"Hmpf," Kento brings his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them and observing the demon up close. It looked human, exceedingly unremarkable and slightly malnourished.  _Not enough souls to eat?_  Kento passively wonders.

…Will he actually have to start sacrificing people?

Well that's just great.

"Uchiha Kento."

"Uchiha…" Its brow scrunches up before its face blows open in surprise. Kento draws back, startled. "Oh!  _Ooh!_  You're the guys who own the police station! The ones who are always chasing me after my pranks!"

A demon who plays pranks? Kento is mildly concerned at what types of horrors a demon could prank people with. Rising the undead? Turning pleasant dreams into bone-chilling nightmares?

He swallows.

"Probably," Kento shrugs. "I didn't even know we owned a police station."

"Oh, didn't ya?  _Weird."_

"Hmpf, do you have a name?" Will he have to start learning some obscure latin? He hoped not.

"Uhm, I think…Naruto?…No family name?"

"You don't sound very sure of that."

It pouts, "I've only heard it a couple'a times, the orphanage matron an' everyone else calls me Demon."

"Aah," Kento nods, thinking. "Do you want me to name you then? Now that you're mine?"

The demon brightens like a puppy. What a deceiving little creature. "Yes!"

"Isaac," Kento bobs his head decisively after a short moment. Choosing to name him after his sulky Spaniard neighbour in fond memory. "None of that fishcake bullshit."

"Ie-s-aak."

"No, no, no, no. No." Kento slices the air at the butchered remains of his friend's name. "Isaac."

"Ie-sa _e_ k?"

"For the love of - "

This goes on for a while. Kento teaching his pet demon how to say his own name.

If there were ever a time he was normal, he can't remember.

. - .

When Mikoto eventually calls the day quits, her voice remarkably carries across the park and Kento hurriedly arranges the tree they sat under as their meeting spot for tomorrow. Isaac doesn't make any move to oppose it, happily nodding his head in content and waving goodbye.

As Kento approaches the bench where his mother and Sasuke were sitting - the boy suspiciously positioned next to the woman and clutching his red bucket - he notices the damning look.

"What's this I hear of you bullying your brother, Kento?" She arches an eyebrow, and Kento shoots the smug looking Sasuke a glare.

"Trash." He spits.

Sasuke leaps off the bench, bucket raised.

"Sasuke! Kento!" Mikoto bursts and Sasuke shies back. She gives the reborn man a warning look. "Stop calling your brother trash."

"I made a friend." He says quickly, keeping eye contact with the woman to have her complete, and utter attention to the present. "He's really weird, and we've made a plan to meet here again tomorrow. Can I go? It would be a shame if I couldn't and made him wait for me here, alone - you know he's an orphan? To stand him up like that, to an orphan, would probably give him an impression that everyone leaves him in life. Real psychological damage you'd be giving him there, mother. Asshole move."

Mikoto's stunned silent.

"Think of the lasting effects it would imprint on him, at such a sprite age too. Trust issues, isolation, depression, the whole nine yards. I have to go tomorrow, mother, for the greater good. I would be doing society a favour. It's my duty as his  _friend._  I can't let him kill himself, you see."

"What?" Mikoto asks.

"In the future," Kento clears up. "Because of the irreparable psychological damage you'll be giving him, mother. I have to go to keep all of that from happening. My conscience wouldn't be able to take it. Do keep up."

"What?" Mikoto asks again. "Kento - " she opens her mouth but no words seem to fill it so she just snaps shut. Staring at him incredulously.

"Why have you got to be such a freak?" Sasuke asks weakly. Having not comprehended a smidgen of what just transpired other than being vaguely aware nothing normal had happened.

Sasuke turns to his mother desperately. Imploring her to understand his plight. The true matter at hand.

"He destroyed my sandcastle! The dragons never stood a chance!"

Liar, there were no dragons!

Kento sniffs. "I did no such thing."

"You did too!"

"Did  _not,_  you squirrely little shit!"

"Kento!" Mikoto shouts, quickly turning to a hushed whisper when they garner unwanted attention. She leans down to his height, a gentle and compassionate smile on her face. It makes him all tingly inside and Kento hates it. "Do you want to go tomorrow?"

He nods.

"Alright then, all you had to do was ask." She sighs, standing and shaking her head. "Honestly Kento, there was no need to be so dramatic."

He grouches, crossing his arms and marching in the direction of their home. Mikoto picks Sasuke up and keeps pace easily. Her long legs no match for his dwarfish ones.

Kento kicks a pebble and Mikoto smiles.

"What's your friend's name?"

"Isaac. And he's  _mine,"_  Kento angles his head up at Sasuke. "I'm not sharing, trash."

"Now, Kento - "

"Don't want your stupid friend anyways." The boy harrumphs, shuffling in Mikoto's arms. "He's probably got whatever you have that makes mother and father shout at you tonnes."

Mikoto sighs.

. - .

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * = Naruto's not really a demon, but he's four and believes he is because everyone calls him one.


	3. The Take Down

 

. - .

Kento decides to keep knowledge on Isaac being a demon close to the chest, just incase his parents get any ideas about snatching the demon from under his nose. Or 'hurt' Isaac as a warning to stay away from their human son.

Not that the idea of Isaac getting the snot beaten out of him is concerning- do demon's feel pain? Do they like it? Are they masochists?- but rather he's more afraid of the thought that he'd never see the little creature again.

Befriending a demon is the most interesting thing to happen to as of late. Discovering magic was bewildering and preposterous at first, and has lost its appeal over time since nobody's taken the initiative in teaching him. Until he's 'matured' enough, they say.

He would have laughed in their faces if he weren't so offended.

After all, the last thing he expected to hear was a young woman tell him - in that patronising tone people use on inarticulate children - that he's "too young. Let's wait a little more until you've mature enough, ne?" As though she were being entirely reasonable.

Which she wasn't.

[In hindsight - in the murky corners of his mind once called a conscience - Kento could see where they were coming from. He was three at the time - but technically he was also decades older than these juvenile youths who finance off of death.]

. - .

"Father," Kento confronts Fugakū when the man is barely a foot in the doorway. "Speak to me about magic."

Fugakū doesn't startle, but he does squint at the cold-hearted greeting. "How long were you sitting there for?" Fugakū eyes the pillow at the forefront of the entrance and Kento's bedraggled look.

"You were supposed to be home half-an-hour ago."

"Aah," Fugakū doesn't move from his spot half-behind the door, taking what little protection he could from his son's righteous glare. He was not feeling guilty. He was  _not._  "I got held back at work."

"Hmpf?"

Fugakū takes his son's disgruntled and slightly interested look as a prompt for him to add on a reasonable explanation. It chillingly reminds him of the expression Mikoto wore when he was late to their wedding anniversary.

"It's classified."

Kento cocks his head, gears visibly turning. Thinking about it now, he doesn't really know what his father does as a living. Recalling all the late nights, his private study filled to the brim of files and newspapers, writing a great many things down at the table during breakfast. Always looking stressed, tired, grumpy and harried. There is only one job Kento can think of.

A newspaper editor.

That poor, poor man.

"People's grammar really sucks nowadays, eh mate?"

Wait.

Kento grimaces. Realising that, that made no sense considering this was Japanese and his Japanese was next to nothing. Ass times out of ten his kanji is literate.

Fugakū blinks. Pauses.  _Breathes._  "What?"

"Ah _em_ ," Kento pretends he had said nothing and 'carry's on'. "Alright, I'll allow it this time." A tiny finger is suddenly speared at Fugakū. Reaching the proud height of the man's waist - hey he was growing! - and jabbing emphatically as he warns, "But if you make me wait again, I'll tell mother."

For some reason Fugakū nods.

"Hmpf," Kento draws back after checking something in Fugakū's face. Whatever he was looking for, the man had no clue and didn't care, he was getting whiplash from his son's odd behaviour again.

"Teach me magic."

"It's chakra," Fugakū sighs, relieved to be on firmer ground. "Magic is slightly intelligent tricks done by vampire's in waiter outfits."

"V-Vampires?" Kento is horrified. First demons, now vampire magicians. "Jesus," he rubs his face.

"And no," Fugakū continues, oblivious to his son's misunderstanding. "You are four, I will teach you next year - "

"Why?" He demands, shoving down the impulse to stomp a foot. "Why won't you teach me? I've matured!"

"Fantastic example you are setting, Kento." Fugakū gently steers his son around by the shoulders and the boy quietly grumbles obscenities under his breath that would put a grown man to shame. (Fugakū vows to investigate the bastard responsible for teaching Kento such language so he can pay for dirtying his precious son) "Now go join Sasuke in whatever he's doing."

"Trash is eating his secret stash of tomatoes he hid our sock drawer."

"…I'm not supposed to know that, am I?" He asks.

Kento growls low in his throat, crossing his arms and admits, "Not really…"

"Then I'll pretend I didn't hear anything."

"Hmpf." Kento storms away, pointedly ignoring the pillow he sat on for a bloody half-hour when he passes it. Let it be a shameful,  _shameful_  reminder to the man. "Shuffling, good for nothing, tit," he mutters, rearing left down the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. Mikoto was chopping some carrots, humming merrily to herself. When he appears she glances up at him with a slightly narrowed look.

"Language, young man."

"Your husband is useless."

"What a lovely reminder," she smiles sarcastically.

Kento knew there was a reason why he tolerated her.

. - .

"My father's capacity for being useful has failed me once again," Kento unloads on Isaac the next day, swinging a nicely-wrapped bento box his mother prepared at the demon. Isaac makes no move to catch it and instead watch in bewilderment as the expensive box comes slamming to a halt at its feet.

The demon makes a vague sound of alarm and Kento stares.

Pained. And slightly resigned.

"…Looks as though we'll have to wait until the academy to learn about magic," he goes on to say after a shrewd minute, "Damn shame. I was looking forward to fucking about with your powers."

"Whadda 'bout the library?" Isaac offers.

Kento makes a surprised 'O' with his mouth.

"Well gosh, son," he squints at nothing in particular. "Why didn't I think of that sooner?"

Isaac shrugs lamely. Shuffling from side to side like a restless puppy needing to pee.

"What?" He snaps.

"Hi!" The demon bursts, big hopeful smile on its face and waving arms about like ambitious windmills. "Can I hug you?"

"Hell no."

"Ah-uh, okay then…"

Kento squints again, cautiously grabbing the messed up bento box and placing it out in front of him as an impromptu shield. "My mother made this for you," he jiggles the box, hearing ominous sounds of food mushing together. Kento didn't bother being gentle, he hated cute looking things with a passion that most would call unhealthy.

He had taken a peek inside the bento box this morning. His mother had made cute rice balls in the design of odd little creatures. It made his insides all gooey. Love hearts, stars, kittens, tomato octopuses, hedgehogs…

Where did people come up with this shit?

Isaac looked to be frozen in shock.

"I know, making a demon lunch.  _Pssch."_  He scoffs, "I couldn't exactly tell her your desired preference."

Isaac blinks and blithers,  _"_ You _-uh-_  you know*?"

"Tch." He shivers in disgust.

Souls. Not exactly cottage pie.

"Yeh," Isaac slumps, "it has that effect on people. Gramps tells me I shouldn't eat too much 'cause it's not healthy."

Kento lets out a slightly hysterical giggle. "No shit?"

The demon grins sheepishly, and Kento marvels how it could look so innocent after revealing its dietary needs to a potential victim.

He shivers again, shoving himself back into gear. "So, lemme go pop this in the bin and then we'll go to the library, yeah?"

Isaac is alarmed again. Flailing a bit. "I can eat it!"

Kento pauses, eyeing the bug-eyed demon dubiously. "You don't have to make yourself eat something you don't like. She won't know."

"N-no she went out of her way - "

" - to make something that looks nice, which probably means it taste shit." Kento nods wisely. "Either way you won't like it, I  _guarantee you_  it doesn't taste like the damned."

Isaac gapes in confusion.

. - .

At some point, after walking aimlessly around Konoha and dumping the bento box, they find the library.

And get kicked out.

"Go dig a hole and jump in it you dildo-headed bastard!" Kento shakes a mighty fist at the librarian. The old tosser storms back inside, throwing insults over his shoulder before disappearing behind closed doors. Kento fumes, standing at the foot of the stairs, his body vibrating in barely suppressed anger. "That cooky, bloody son of a - "

"This is my fault." Isaac murmurs from the ground, despondent.

Kento looks surprised. "What?"

"It's 'cause Imma demon, everyone hates me…"

He tries not to shout at the sorry looking creature because Kento knows that. He knew something like this would happen eventually - should have seen it coming now what a great big tosser he was - but not to him!

He's human. Honest!

He doesn't deserve this.  _Blast!_

"Cocksucker!" Kento shouts at the doors again, kicking some dust for good measure. Around him the sea of civilians and shinobi stop and stare.

The library was near the very heart of the village - more like city, he's never been to Tokyo, but he could imagine it being like that only in an oldish-dreadfully designed version - and therefore on one of the busiest streets Konoha had to offer.

Konoha, Kento had witnessed during his and Isaac's aimless walk, has trees everywhere. It was like overzealous vegans and environmental activists banned together one night and attacked. They were now stuck living with Tarzan's decorative hand outs. Often enough, he could spot black streaks darting across branches way up there.

The first time he saw it Kento had punched Isaac in the arm out of sheer terror.

(He now realises those were probably ninja and not a pack of wild demons or vampires out for his delicious self.)

Kento tries to ignore the judgemental and hateful stares being so obviously thrown his and Isaac's way. Along with their  _mutterings._ More like loud obnoxious whispers _._

"Wankers," Kento bites to himself. Kicking some more dust off the street and pacing, hands folded behind him as he thinks up a solution. "We could break in."

He could do that, he's read about enough burglaries in the newspapers and watched enough cop shows to have a vague idea on how to approach it.

"Nah," Isaac sighs, haunching in when a man passes by a spits 'demon'. Kento glowers at the back of the stranger. Nobody gives to crap to his demon other than him.

He kicks dust their way.

"He's a shinobi librarian. He'll know if you try it."

"There has to be  _some way_  we can get inside."

"There ain't."

"Then what am I supposed to do, wait 'till hell freezes over?"

Isaac frowns and Kento grimaces, realising how odd that must have sounded coming from a human.

"Sorry," he coughs.

"Wha - "

"Oh!" An idea blooms seductively. Snatching Isaac by the arm and hauling the demon up, he drags them both down the street. Whispering conspiringly in its ear. "We'll Pink Panther it."

"E-Eh?"

. - .

Fooling the shinobi librarian was easy enough when one uses the element of dazzling bullshit.

Kento had managed to blacken Isaac's eye-catching hair with ink he had snatched from an outside stall, and hidden the iconic whiskers by a pinkish-flowery patterned scarf taken from a woman's chair on an outside cafe.

For himself he steals a pair of sunglasses - excellent sun protection, he's gonna keep these - and fashions his hair like one of those 90s boy band kids in dire need of a decent education. To further sell the look, he braves inching his shorts down low enough to reveal a peek of underwear.

Sure enough they make it past reception (earning an extremely suspicious and baffled stare) and hole themselves up in an empty corner.

"I dunno how to read," Isaac discloses silently behind the pink scarf, shuffling in his awkward little squat. "I'm twenty**."

"Four," Kento corrects, then pauses. "Wait, are you really?" Do demons age differently? Like vampires?

Isaac looks distressed. "Yes?"

So no.

Kento narrows his eyes at the book, then the demon. What could it read if not kanji? "Can you read latin then?"

"Bwugh?!"

"I see," Kento nods seriously, easing away the book collection Isaac had stacked neatly besides him. Nice thought, but he doesn't need to know 'How to Deal with Pregnant Women'. "Then I'll be the one doing reading…"

Kento flips open a book on the history of Chakra and stares. Sweating.

Kanji.

He really didn't think this through did he? Glancing up at the blue eyes giving him overwhelming attention, Kento swallows. "Don't suppose you could work up some of your demon powers to make this easier for me?"

"A-ah, _eugh,_  ah - "

"I see."

. - .

"Chakra is more complicated than an Iphone," Kento scowls, giving an exasperated sigh . He was lying stomach down on the floor with his head in his arms. "You have to activate it or whatever with hand signals. It's a poncier version of Power Rangers."

"Whgh,  _whe,_  what?" Isaac flinches into consciousness, cocking his head with innocent confusion. The demon had opted in taking a nap since it wasn't able to make itself useful, curled up in a comfortable ball against a bookshelf.

"This isn't magic. This is shit. I refuse."

Isaac squinted. "Um."

"Senior discount."

"Ano, I don't understand…"

"Hmpf." Kento rolls on his back and into a sitting position, groaning in complaint as he does so. "Isaac," he starts, eyeing his demon seriously. "We are not learning chakra."

Isaac shifts. "We're not?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because it's wishy-washy," he says, making waving gestures with his hands.

Isaac opens and closes his mouth for a second before shrugging, "Eh, cool with me. Didn't wanna learn anything anyways."

"Normally I'd be opposed to that sort of slacker talk but right now I am in full agreement. Magic is all about will and want and imagination," he grins widely, feeling motivated for the first time since his Spaniard neighbour challenged him to drink-off. "If demons and vampires exist, then so does magic."

"Whatsa vampire?"

"Fanged creatures that suck blood out of humans."

"So,  _I'm_  safe."

Kento's brows furrow. "You little sh- "

"Why're you so interested in magic?" Isaac timely changes topics.

Kento narrows his eyes at the innocent looking demon -  _innocent my ass that's a creature from hell!_  - before answering, "Because the entire concept of chakra is preposterous! Yin and yang and gates and hand signs to activate certain crap is all so unnecessarily complicated!"

In a rare moment of observation, Isaac lamented, "You just don't wanna read so much kanji."

"No." Kento grunts.

"Liar."

"Hah! So you  _do_  sense lies!"

. - .

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * = Naruto thinks he means ramen.
> 
> ** = Naruto, like any child, will rattle off any age they find appropriate.


	4. Still Kids

. - .

Kento’s surprised he’s still awake and functioning by the time Mikoto picks him up. 

 

After unanimously agreeing that chakra was a bunch of unnecessarily fancy bullshit, both he and Isaac retreat back to their spot in the park under the tree. Disguises still on and leaving the scent of burnt tea in their wake from Isaac’s inky hair. 

 

Once alone they begin to test out various ways to ‘activate’ their ‘magic’. (“I saw it from a cartoon my daughter used to watch called Winx Club.” “Eh?”) They tried imagining fire on their fingertips, the heat that builds and builds within their core - whatever that is - like a matchstick igniting in slow motion.

 

Nothing happens. 

 

_Hmpf_. 

 

They try shocking each other into making an explosion. Involving Kento punching Isaac in the throat and Isaac almost kicking him in the nuts. 

 

Nothing happens.

 

They attempt to meditate. It lasts just more than a minute before Isaac accidentally inhales in a bug. Trial after trial, and bruise after bruise, they attempt to activate something they can’t even see. It’s not like there’s a big red button to press. 

 

No, that would be all too convenient. 

 

“Maybe we should work with real fire this time?” Kento muses, lying on his back as though he had been shot. “You know, try to control it?”

  
Isaac stares at him weirdly, wringing the pink scarf in its hands. 

 

“Ya mean,” the demon begins slowly, ”…we put…our hands - _into_ the fire?” 

 

“No,” Kento pushes the sunglasses up on his head to give the demon a _look_. “ _You_ put _your_ hands into fire. I’m not touching anything _that_ dangerous - I could get burned. Seriously…”

 

“So could I!” 

 

“ _Pfft_. You heal.” Kento eyes Isaac’s unblemished body - apart from the birthmarks - enviously. “And you’re a _demon_. The most fire could do to you is make you a little homesick.” At Isaac’s dubious look he continues, “Think of it as a gift I’m giving you. A present resembling your - _homeland_ (?).”

 

Isaac looked as though it doesn’t know whether to be touched or confused. “…I don’t remember my homeland.”

 

“Is it even a homeland, though?” Kento asks the big question. “Hell isn’t even a country or a land. It’s a …” 

 

“A…place?”

 

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

 

Some time later, after discussing Isaac’s birthplace, they wander around trying to find a spot they could burn. 

 

“There’s always people lighting up a trash can near my apart, aparts-apa - “

 

“I got it.”

 

Upon nearing Isaac’s home, Kento couldn’t help but find the area surrounding it fitting for a demon. 

 

There was sin _everywhere_. 

 

Prostitutes in revealing clothing, shamelessly giving off an air of sex. Drug dealers roaming the streets in expensive yet tacky gear. Tattered drug addicts trailing after them with a sort of paranoid and crazed look in their eyes. People passed them of indeterminate genders, some obviously crossdresses and some looking like aliens. 

 

Since entering the ‘red district’ Kento had felt that uncomfortable feeling of eyes on him. Measuring and calculating and not with good intentions.

 

Kento turns to Isaac, amazed. “You really hit the goldmine.”

 

Isaac is confused. “Uh, thanks?”

 

They find a bunch of hobos in a cool alleyway, huddled around a fiery dumpster. 

 

They tell them to piss off when they ask to ‘borrow’ their heat. 

 

“Gits,” Kento kicks a pebble as they swagger down the road. Away from their source of testing material. “If I were five times my height I swear I’d take a baseball bat to them.” 

 

“Er,” Isaac frowns. “Wouldn’t that kill ‘em?”

 

“We all die someday, I’d just help them alo - “ Kento stops short and narrows his eyes suspiciously at the demon. “Unless…you’re immortal.”

 

Isaac cocks its head. “emortil?”

 

“ _Immortal_.” Kento corrects in english. 

 

“Emortal?”

 

“Tch. Good enough.”

 

. - .

 

They retreat back to the park again, this time wandering through the border of the forest that surrounded it. 

 

They attempt to start a fire with twigs. 

 

“I saw them do this once on the discovery channel,” Kento says confidingly. Furiously rubbing a twig into an extravagantly put together pile of similar twigs: all very unimpressive looking. “I’ll have it lit in no time. Just see.”

 

“I’m watching,” Isaac nods. Squatted close and observing in awe as he puts enough friction between the twigs to power a small light bulb. “…Nothing’s happening.”

 

“Don’t say such unthoughtful words.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

His twig snaps. 

 

“Bloody fuckers,” Kento throws the broken twig over his shoulder and reaches for another, glaring up at a bug-eyed demon as he does so. “Make yourself useful and copy what i’m doing. Or, better yet, magic it up!” He splays his fingers in a theatric twinkle motion. 

  
“I dunno how.”

 

“You’re a demon. Supernatural, yeah? You’ve got to have _some_ way of tapping into that magical core of yours. You should be more in tuned to this sort of crap, not me. I’m _human_.” 

 

“Soopernattu - “

  
“ _Supernatural_. Pissing son of a - okay, listen here you whiskered twit - “ He scoots closer to the demon, eyes very serious. “You’ve got to start putting some real effort into unlocking your powers. So far I’m the one doing all the leg work, and you’re taller than me so _hmpf_.”

 

“I _am_ putting in ephort!” 

 

Kento bravely ignores the language error. “Of course you are,” he tries not to sound condescending. “I can’t expect much from a child - or demon cub, kitten - whatever you’re supposed to be.” 

  
Isaac looks earnest, “I’m a demon.”

 

…

 

“Yes you are.” Kento nods, turning back to his twig and unleashing the friction of pent up fury. He won’t be able to move his hands comfortably for the next couple of days after this. God, this is like his bad hip all over again. 

 

Isaac begins to make its own pile and starts to mimic him. Kento watches from the corner of his eye like a hawk. Waiting for something extraordinary to happen. 

  
Nothing does. Of course.

 

They go through twigs like women go through BB cream. 

 

. - .

 

“How was it, sweetie?” Mikoto asks when she picks him up by the swing set. Kento had shooed Isaac away the moment he heard his mother’s voice ring out. It wouldn’t surprise him if she knew who the Demon was and able to recognise Isaac the moment her eyes land on the creature. Even though Isaac’s is was permanently darkened by the ink they used, his whiskered were likely iconic.

 

Maybe he should invest in some makeup to cover them up when they go out into Konoha tomorrow. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened at the library. Lest he loose his temper and punch a smarmy git right in the kooch. 

 

“Oh I’m tired.”

 

“Aah, eventful day?” She sounds pleased.

 

“That’s one way to describe it, yes.”

  
Mikoto takes a second to examine him on the spot, eyebrow slowly arching. “Where’s the bento box?” Kento glances up, frowning. “You have it with you, ne?”

 

“I put it in the recycling bin.”

 

She blinks. “Kento. You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

 

“Er…Was I not supposed to?”

 

. - . 

 

Shikamaru notices things. A lot of things.

 

He notices how the grass beneath him is freshly mowed. He notices how there are thirteen children in this playground. Ages ranging from four to ten, three of them have a sibling and a quarter of them are playing ninja. The rest he doesn’t bother understanding what they are doing. As one of them is currently sampling some unappealing dirt while two friends are cheering her on. He notices how there are only nine parents on guard. He notices that four of them are shinobi in civilian clothing. He notices that there is a boy sitting under a tree which used to be blonde - a blonde that looks different from yesterday. 

 

Shikamaru notices how his hair is black - inky and the appearance of hay - eyes lighter, and smile brighter. 

 

Shikamaru thinks back, recalling yesterday how an unfriendly-looking boy from the Uchiha Clan spoke to the kid. The kid that everyone stayed away from and parents warned their children about.

 

They called him a ‘demon’. 

 

Shikamaru couldn’t understand. His parents hadn’t personally told him to stay away, but he did so out of ‘social normality’. He doesn’t want to step on any egg shells. He liked being alone and overlooked. From what he had noticed of the Uchiha boy yesterday, he held the same sentiments. He even tried to kick the blonde kid away, shouting obscenities even. 

 

Yet, the Uchiha befriended him.

 

The Uchiha, who Shikamaru has observed being highly unapproachable and antagonistic, befriended somebody. A person that everyone despised and warned people to stay away from.

 

Shikamaru couldn’t understand.

 

Why? 

 

He turns his head to look at the inky-haired boy sitting happily under the tree, not looking like he would be going anywhere soon, and Shikamaru couldn’t resist that nagging feeling under his skin. It was troublesome, but if he doesn’t get an answer he won’t be able to sleep soundly tonight. And Shikamaru can’t have that. No he can’t. 

 

He’ll need to make it quick. Just incase anybody spots them together.

 

Peeling himself upwards, vertebrae by vertebrae, Shikamaru sways his way over to the boy and drops down into a seating position opposite. 

 

The kid startles. Smile dropping.

  
“E-eh?”

 

“Why did the Uchiha befriend you?”

 

“Who the heck are you?” The boy scoots back, squinting cautiously. “You ain’t a friend of those toss-toast - what does Kento call them - _tossers_!” 

 

Shikamaru blinks. “ _Tossers_?” he repeats. Word foreign on his tongue and most likely an insult. He glances back at the children behind him. The ones who always shout crude words to the kid when he passes them. “Maa, no. I’m not friends with them. They’re too troublesome, move around too much and speak too loud.”

 

“…Okay.” The kid relaxes, stupidly trusting for someone so mistreated. “I’m Isaac.”

 

“Shikamaru.” He tilts his head droopily. “Now we’re acquainted do you feel up to answering my question?”

 

“Why do everyone use such big words,” Isaac grumbles to himself, pouting a little and crossing his arms before answering. “It’s ‘cause Imma demon.”

 

Shikamaru feels his brain hiccup. “I’m sorry, what?” 

 

“Imma demon and we’ve gotta deal, see,” Isaac leans forward conspiringly and Shikamaru unconsciously mimics him. Genuinely intrigued where this lead to. “He’ll be my friend, and in return I protect him. Like a hero to a damsel!” 

 

Shikamaru stares for a couple of seconds. “I hate to break it to you kid, but you’re not a demon.”

 

And wow, doesn't Isaac look _offended_. Shikamaru thought a person would be pleased to hear they’re not a soul-eating monster from the underworld. 

 

What a backwards reaction. 

 

“Oi! I am too a demon!” Isaac bursts in his face. “Everyone calls me one, I heal super quick and - and I have powers! Sure they haven’t appeared yet but I ‘ave them!” 

 

Shikamaru manages a sympathetic expression. “I don’t know why people call you a demon, but your healing ability could be a bloodline” (Shikamaru’s confused even more now because that bloodline sounds extremely useful, so why is everyone treating him badly? He should have been taken in by the Hokage and groomed to produce offspring to start a promising clan) “and those powers, that’s called chakr - “ Isaac _hisses_. 

 

“No such thing.”

 

“Pardon, _what_?”

 

Isaac puffs up. “Chakra is wishy washy.”

 

“You’ve lost me there.” Shikamaru continues a bit desperately. “Aah, what do you mean when you say there’s ‘no such thing’ as chakra?”

  
“Well,” Isaac flounders for a second. As though he had never really put much thought into why he’s denying his own existence. “Because Kento says so.”

 

Things fall into place. “Aah, so you just go along with whatever the Uchiha says, ne?”

 

“He’s my friend! Of course I would.”

 

This poor imbecile. “You do realise you’re being used, right?”

 

“I don’t care,” Isaac sticks his nose up. “He likes me for who I am.”

 

“A demon,” Shikamaru gives a look of perfect blankness. 

 

“Yes!” 

 

“You’re not a demon. Chakra is real - I assure you. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, ne?”

 

“I am a demon and it’s not chakra, it’s magic.”

 

Shikamaru whistles under his breath. “Aah, do you even know what Chakra is?”

 

“I’m forty, of course not. I can't even read.”

 

If Shikamaru concentrated really really hard, he could hear his mind whimper. This was why he doesn’t interact with other children. 

  
They make no sense. 

 

He calculates how he could have thought this conversation would be intelligent, and comes up with run-of-the-mill temporary blindness. 

 

“So you’re going off of what the Uchiha says.”

 

“Un!” Isaac nods in affirmative. 

 

“Okay, so,” and Shikamaru doesn’t say anything because he just can’t. What could he say to convince Isaac that he wasn’t a demon, and what he thinks is magic is actually chakra? The idiot was a screw too loose in the head and his father’s told him one can’t talk sense into crazy. 

 

Besides, why should Shikamaru take up the responsibility of setting him straight? Let him think what he likes, he’s already gotten his answer. 

 

The Uchiha is using the idiot for his supposed ‘powers’ to protect him. A decent plan in itself if Isaac were actually a demon. 

 

“Well…Bye.” Shikamaru waves and rolls to his feet. Isaac splutters for a second before getting up and following him across the lawn.

 

“W-Wait that’s it? Your sentence was going somewhere!” 

 

“Yeah, to hell.”

 

“I could fetch it for you if you’d like.”

 

Shikamaru would have been touched if he weren’t so stupefied. Really, this was too weird. Shikamaru wanted his normality back. 

 

He glances around nervously, making sure nobody’s looking. Crap, he shouldn’t have approached the kid in the first place. He was rather attached to his anonymity, and if somebody saw him with Isaac, he’d be blacklisted and given mean stares. Shikamaru isn’t ashamed to admit he’s a little bit sensitive about those types of things. He’s still a child after all. Not yet a shinobi, so he’s allowed to feel sensitive. 

 

“Go,” Shikamaru makes a ‘shooing’ motion with his hands and Isaac suddenly gets this glazed over look in his eyes. 

  
“Just like Kento…”

 

In that moment, Shikamaru feels a shiver of doom spread down his spine. 

 

“Wanna be friends?”

 

This was not happening.

 

. - .


	5. His Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long awaited chapter has arrived! I finished my essay early so I was able to write and post this. Please review at the end :D
> 
> P.S
> 
> If you are a fan of my story 'Rotten' I am also working on a new chapter when I'm able to. So sometime this month there might be an update! Cross fingers~

 

 

. - .

Staring up at what could only be described as an apparition - a terrifying creature that he never, never thought -  _this doesn't make sense this doesn't make sense it shouldn't be real -_ its mask glistens beneath a peak of sunlight, casting gruesome shadows in dips and curves of its bloodied, coarsely-painted smile.  _A figure of Death._  Filling him with icy dread and a lot of unhappy thoughts.

Shikamaru suddenly wants hide inside a pocket.

Besides him Isaac whoops in joy.

"Yamaneko-chan~!"

The mask dips in silent acknowledgement and oh dear the shadows are  _moving._ It was in this moment Shikamaru realized something about himself.

He had stopped breathing.

"You have been summoned."

Summoned. Like-like a….

 _Demon_.

Shikamaru feels a dizzying chill of reality –  _the Uchiha was right the Uchiha was right_  - crash over and submerging him in darkness.

Or maybe that was the ground rushing up to meet him when he finally falls asleep out of stress reflex.

. - .

"There are five anbu outside saying your son is requested to see the Hokage himself. Immediately."

Fugakū looks up at his wife. Noticing that once again, whenever Kento gets into trouble he is always 'his son'. As though she could check out the custody their child like a time stamp.

However, upon observing his wife's ominous facial expression, Fugakū doesn't dare point this out. Instead he nods mechanically, says in a tone betraying competence ( _anbu. Fucking Hokage. He was only alone for four hours christ's sake.)_  "I'll deal with it." And goes off in search for his...child. God.

 _Why couldn't he have been more like his brother?_  Fugakū briefly mourns. _Itachi was such a delight. Such a quiet and obedient little boy._

The image of the Uchiha was fine until Kento came along kicking and screaming.

He finds the boy where he typically does, outside inspecting Mikoto's flowers. Gardening was a surprisingly soft trait his son possessed. It almost made him cute-looking.

"She fucking forgot to water them."

Until he opens his mouth.

Fugakū coughs as to not startle him.

Kento twists around and squints up in abject terror. "Did you cough? Are you getting a cold? Do you have a rash? Is your nose runny? Fever? Feel as though you're at death's door? If you are then stay the hell away from me you plague-ridden tit. I'm back in my prime – nobody's asking to help me cross the road anymore, no thank you!"

Fugakū blinks at his son's dramatics. "I was trying to get your attention."

"Jesus," Kento breathes in relief then casts him a mutinous look. "Don't scare a man like that, it's not good for my heart."

"You're four."

Kento 'tsk's and goes back to observing his wife's garden. Patting petals and stroking leaves with more care and interest than he does with his own family. For a nano-second, he allows himself to feel a deep, painful sadness grip his heart before pushing it back and speaking.

"There are anbu outside affirming a meeting between yourself and the Hokage, care to explain what this is about?"

"What's a Hoka-gnome? Can I eat it?"

What a disturbing child.

"Kento…" Fugakū knows it's futile but he can't help himself. "Don't you ever listen to your tutors?"

Kento squints at him again, "Do you want me to lie or be honest."

What was the point in asking...

"The Hokage is the leader of our village," he clarifies. Hoping this would edge on an answer.

Only it doesn't.

All he gets is Kento looking genuinely confused. "What does he want with me then? I haven't done anything."

Fugakū wonders for a second. "Are you certain?" he presses, "The Hokage wouldn't be mistaken about these kinds of things."

"Oi oi oi you gloomy bastard, why are you interrogating me?" Kento looks peeved. "I'm innocent and childish in every way possible. What do you think I've done? What does  _that_  pretentious prick think I've done? Have I killed someone? Oh that's some spectacular bullshit - I don't think so. Have I robbed someone? I don't – well, I did, but Isaac needed it more than that woman and besides she probably had millions of scarves judging by the weight of her purse which I  _did not open_  – "

"Who's Isaac?" Fugakū asks. Honing in on the unfamiliar name. It was spoken in that same, foreign tongue his son made up as a child.

Curious.

"My friend. My  _human_  friend." Kento nods at him, trying to stress an utter seriousness on that needless fact. "Nothing  _underworldly_  about him. Nothing at all."

Fugakū wasn't touching that with a ten-foot pole.

"All right," he says and continues, mind working to fix up a story on what Kento could have  _possibly_  done. Maybe that scarf he stole was from some important civilian…from the…Council…

Oh God.

Oh. Oh  _shit_  maybe it was.

"Fuck."

"Language."

"Son, I don't want to hear that coming from you."

"Touché."

. - .

The secretary frowns at Kento, lips pursing and forehead creasing in apparent confusion. Her gaze goes to his father, who was wearing that look of 'touch me and you die' he develops when going out in public. She quickly tears her gaze away, choosing to stare somewhere over his shoulder.

"I wasn't aware Hokage-sama had visitors."

His father grunts, "neither did us."

"It was an unwanted surprise." Kento nods, simultaneously angling his head around to try and spot where the mysterious 'anbu' had vanished to. He had a sneaking suspicion that they were vampires. Or demons. He's seen ninja disappear before, but this was on another level entirely. They  _melted_  into shadows.

Plus it made sense. If  _he_  were the leader of the village ( _oh now that's a nice thought_ ) he'd want an indestructible bodyguard that could manipulate dark magic.

Also he has a strong sense of self-preservation and didn't like the idea of some wanker vampire ogling his arteries like some pervert. He grunts in displeasure and gives an intense couple of warning glares at some dark corners.

Spotting a shift in movement, he points at the curtain's shadow and says, "I'm watching you."

Fugakū glances down at his son and tries not to grimace too hard.

. - .

Kento was certain, when five minutes passed, that the Hokage was pissing with them. They wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It was general bullocks and Kento's head was about ready to explode from pure hell. Whenever he asked the secretary 'how long', she will always reply in an overly gentle voice 'not very long' or 'any second now'.

His ass.

All he wants to do is go to his mother's garden and take care of the vegetables he has growing. Just generally not be in this nauseatingly quiet room sitting in these uncomfortable plastic chairs that were turning his butt numb.

As a grown-up he wasn't a patient person.

As a child he was even worse.

So he gets up, walks around it circles. Threaten some hidden vampires. Ask the secretary how much longer, "oh I'm sure any second now" "hmpf" and sits back down.

He does this about eight times before Fugakū silently rises from his chair, wraps him up in his arms and sits back down. Successfully hampering the reborn-man.

"I'm a grown man - !"

" _Shh_."

"Hmpf."

. - .

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Kento meets the Hokage and Shikamaru~~~ :D
> 
> Thoughts, feelings, opinions about this chapter? Please don't be afraid to review. Every word helps.


	6. My Son's Minion

 

Fugakū had a lot of remarkably good traits when it came to succeeding in life. Certainly, his repertoire bemoans of unspeakable deeds in the night. Woes and throes of excitement and adventure. He was quite an accomplished man.

If only that success lent towards parenthood.

"Repeat after me," Fugakū eyes his youngest, trying to convey the gravity of his words. "I will not insult our village leader."

"Why on this crap-ridden plane would I insult what's equivalent to Her Majesty in the face?"

Fugakū attempts to grasp those words with both hands but they slip through his fingers like cold water.

"Cursing in their face would get me executed you dim, apple-cheeked man," Kento leans in and whispers behind his hand, "Though behind their back is fair game." he nods, patting his chest. "Don't want to risk having my arse blown to bits, yeah?"

Fukagū barely manages to contain his lost expression, "I'm not sure if you know this son, but whenever you talk, you always make it so only you can understand."

Kento scratches his chin, pouting. "You sound like my wife."

"What."

"Oi,  _what!"_  A screeching boy suddenly appears in front of them and forces Fugakū to clutch Kento back into his lap with hands like claws.

His glare shrivels, however, when recognizing who the boy was.

Ah, the Jinchuuriki brat. What's he doing –

" _Kento_?"

His eyebrows damn well levitate to the ceiling.

"Tit." Keno greets back.

Fugakū looks down at his son.

_Did he just call the Jinchuuriki a tit?_

_Was that even legal?_

"I was summoned!" Kushina's spawn leaps out from the ANBU's grasp and scrambles over to them.

"Ooh?" Kento gives a long, critical look before starting the single most disturbing list of questions Fugakū has ever heard of. "Tell me, does it require a set number of virgin sacrifices? Blood of the innocent? Goats? Intestines? Chanting, and/or dancing mysteriously around a bonfire dressed in our birthday suit? Should we graffiti pentagrams on church walls? Contact the illuminati? Create rumours about the Hoka-shit's adultery? Or, better yet, kidnap and sacrifice a baby?"

"…Uuh. Maybe?"

"No," Fugakū declares flatly. Eyes pinning the dirty blonde (is that  _ink_  in his hair?) child as though he were the one accountable for whatever on God's green earth was just spewed from his son's mouth. " _No_."

"Oi, oi, oi, oi,  _ooooi_ , who're you and why're ya holdin' Master Kento?"

Oh dear God his son got himself a Jinchuuriki minion. No wonder the Hokage wants to speak to them.

And in his mind's eye, Fugakū see's his unbecoming.

If the council gets wind of this, no doubt past rumours about the Uchiha Clan being responsible for the Nine Tails attack will come running back and kick them in the groin.

Devoid of soul, he answers; "I'm his fath –"

" – he's to blame for my downright unwarranted existence.  _Hmph_!"

There's an infinitesimal pause, in which Fugakū rests his head against the wall with his eyes shut and the Hokage's secretary finally manages to speak up.

"I think the Hokage can -"

"Who's that?" Kento brings attention to something.

Fugakū, against his better judgement, peeks an eye open to witness what appears to be an unconscious child hoofed under the ANBU's arm.

"Oh!" his son's minion perks up, looking to have forgotten about the other child in his excitement (which is new, Fugakū can't ever recall somebody being so happy to see his son. It's quite the opposite - on more than one occasion there were tears involved). "That's our new friend."

"Our?" Kento repeats, sounding suddenly burdened.

"Yeah!" The kid walks over to the ANBU and heartlessly yanks the child out. Resulting in a loud  _thump_. "Ah, oops."

Fugakū shuts his eyes the same time Kento guffaws.

The sound of a body being dragged makes him miss his wife.

. - .

The Hokage, having viewed the proceedings through his glass ball, currently has his head in his hands and was visibly shaking.

An ANBU standing behind him asks worriedly, "…Hokage-sama? Are you alright?"

"Fugakū… he…." The Hokage begins in a feeble and strained tone before breaking into laughter. "He's so bad at parenting!"

. - .

In the end they were asked to make a new appointment due to the Hokage being 'indisposed'.

"Ass." Kento stews on the walk home.

Fugakū felt too horrified to correct him.

. - .

_My head hurts._

Is the first thing that comes to mind when Shikamaru wakes from his vegetative slumber. He shifts, wincing at the uncomfortable position he was in.

_Am I sitting?_

Blinking at his blurry, unfamiliar surroundings Shikamaru wonders where he was.

"Oh good, you're awake." A pretty woman appears in his view. Expression a mix between empathy and trauma. Something so ominously vague Shikamaru slumped. "Do you know why you're here?"

 _Here_ , is the naggin question.

He arches an eyebrow, professing sass.

"No need for that child," she tuts. "You're in the Hokage's reception. You were brought along with Uzumaki - "

"Oh yeah. Him."

 _It_ , his brain corrects and Shikamaru groans as the memories return.

Everything about this situation sucked and screamed troublesome. He never should have approached it.

Damn.

Well, freaking out over the illogical existence of demons (aw man,  _why?_ ) won't help him in any instance. May as well wake up and smell the daisies.

So he groans again and surveys his surroundings for the familiar demonic entity. Thankful when he realizes it was gone and it hadn't taken any of his limbs with it.

Sighing, he pins the lady with a stare. "Woman, why am I here?"

She huffs. "The Hokage wanted a word and I assume you unfortunately got dragged along."

Shikamaru pales. Wondering what Isaac could have  _possibly_  done to warrant the Hokage demanding a word with it.

Did it go on a killing spree?

Eat a bunch of orphans?

"Where is – "

"Uzumaki left a while ago along with the Uchihas after…incapacitating the Hokage." The woman's face shoes a plethora of suffering that renders Shikamaru mildly speechless.

Oh man what did they do to the Hokage?

"Wait, so they just  _left_  me here?"

She grimaces. "Well, neither of them didn't exactly know who you are and where to take you, so they left." Sourly she add, "For me to deal with."

"Oh, " he scoffs. "Like I asked to be kidnapped."

She shrugs. "So, who are you?"

"Nara Shikaku's son."

"As in…"

"The Clan Head."

"They kidnapped…"

"Yeah."

Shikamaru watches the woman moan softly in distress and harrumphs in satisfaction. Serves her right for treating him like an empty bag of chips.

As the lady rushes to call his dad from his office, Shikamaru reflects on the events leading him to this horrific standpoint.

A demon has befriended him.

"Excuse me, woman?" he calls out to her, rubbing the back of his head. She looks up from her desk despairingly. "Where can I find an exorcist? And why does my head hurt?"

. - .

 


	7. The Calm Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author Note: Apologies for being so extremely late, and with such a short chapter! I'm afraid it was the best I could scrounge up considering my schoolwork is being bombarded with exams and upcoming ones. I'll try my best to post a longer chapter next time, and one filled to the brim with misunderstandings and Main Character interactions!

 

 

"How did it go?" Mikoto swoops up to Fukagū in a wash of anxiety.

Fugakū halts. One hand braced against the doorway, expression predicting the inevitability of a natural disaster.

"Kento didn't do anything too bad, did he? You know how he is with words, hun. He inherited your lack of tact."

Before Fukagū could point out how many degrees of injustice that statement was, a little snort and life-form of his son elbows a path through his legs. Forcing him to bodily throw against the door. Bringing his wife along with it and catapulting her into a coat rack.

"Fugakū!"

"Sorry, dear." He hastily apologises. Reaching around to fish her out. "Kento, apologise to your mother!" He shouts after him. But Kento's already vaporised around the corner into the kitchen.

" _Inherited_ ," a nasally mocking tone of his youngest echoes. "Inherited. Gosh. You make it sound like we're related or something."

Fukagū would have dropped his wife if he hadn't been so accustomed to his son's oddities.

"I think we should give Kento the talk about the birds and the bees again, hon." Mikoto blearily whispers at him.

"Personally," Fukagū whispers back. Face stone. "I'm largely of the opinion that Kento's simply disowned us."

She gawks.

"Dear, after explaining the process of consummation an excessive amount of times, I think Kento's wildly aware of how he came to being."

 _And is ferociously against it for some reason,_ Fugakū mentally taps on _._

Mikoto grows this stubborn, denying expression he's become accustomed to when translating Kento's behaviour to her.

"That's not funny, Fugakū. Kento's young, of course he wouldn't completely understand what sex entails."

He sighs, "Dear – "

"He forgets Sasuke is his twin for God's sake!" She hisses at him, gestures wild. "He thought Itachi was a girl up until last year, screams whenever your nin-cat speaks and is downright atrocious at writing. He didn't even know you were his father up until he could speak. He thought you were an estranged uncle who checks in from time to time to see how we were doing because his father died before he was born."

Fugakū holds back his violent twitch and tries not to look anywhere else other than Mikoto's pointed expression. He remembers when that happened. Remembers Kento's tiny, innocent voice when he asked him whether he was really his father. Remembers like it happened yesterday when he was given this sad, strangely disappointed look. As though Kento couldn't believe the man who comes and goes like the weather was supposed to be his guardian.

What Fugakū remembers most of all though, was not the feeling of his heart being torn to pieces like hunry wolves ripping into meat, but his entire  _being_  suddenly being weighing down as though he were five years old again. Staring at his father's backside as the man marched off to war. Voice trapped, hands dangling, and helpless.

Just…helpless.

So very lost.

His son thought he was fatherless because Fugakū kept on putting work ahead of family.

( _Neglecting_ , Inoichi Yamanaka tells him later on and doesn't that feel like a kick in the nuts)

What Fugakū also remembers about that terrible day, is how his son changed him. He got a secretary, he stayed home more, managed time better, moved his office from the Police building to home and expanded the Uchiha Police station to have little stations inside Konoha. The Elders didn't like that one bit, but they couldn't argue against the unintended progress it made with the villagers treating them better. Showing more trust.

From then his Police force grew steadily, eventually allowing shinobi outside Uchiha in - to handle the little things; scuffles at bars, home break-ins, things that lessened his workload by a mile. (of course, this change is only recent, and it took a while and some nudging from Yamanaka to encourage him – and he's glad he took that kind man's aid. After all he's often given Kento-duty because Mikoto doesn't realise how odd their son truly is – how much hold he has over her. Kento could murder someone and Mikoto wouldn't scold him too hard)

When Fugakū doesn't respond, Mikoto tuts.

"Really hun, given everything how could Kento understand." She thwaps a hand, "Anyway, how was the meeting with the Hokage?"

The change of subject doesn't make Fugakū feel as good as it should have done.

. - .

"You made mum stress bake again." Sasuke pins him with an accusatory stare. Kento mirror's what happened mere seconds ago to another unfortunate man and pauses in the doorway. "She used up all my tomatoes for dinner, even my secret ones!" Sasuke slouches on the floor covered with a nest of badly-done origami kunai.

"Tragic."

"It is! I have none for breakfast tomorrow, and it's  _your_  fault."

"As is everything else that happens to you," Kento drawls, backing away from the kitchen. Just as he appears in the hallway again, his mother screeches:

"CANCELLED?! What  _happened_?!"

He strides headlong and slams the door shut behind him.

"You boo-booed real hard," Sasuke says. Smiling with the cheer of someone who enjoys watching other people suffer.

"My entire existence is a boo-boo," Kento nods, trotting across the room to where the kitchen door leads to his precious petunias.

"You're not supposed to agree with me!" Sasuke shouts after him.

"Tough titties kiddo!" Kento shouts back and slams the door shut.

. - .

"You what." Shikaku only just manages to catch himself from shouting at the Hokage's secretary in genuine bafflement. For a short moment he considers maybe he had misheard the lady –

"He was quite firm on it, Nara-sama," she says and visibly holds back a grimace. Probably just now realising how ridiculous she sounded. A five year old outwitting her, hah! Shikaku didn't know whether to be impressed or not. "I could direct you to – "

"Please do," he nods, still baffled.

It wasn't everyday he's given directions to a shaman house to fetch his son.

. - .

"A demon you say, boy?" The shamanist asks, eyes closed and hand waving about a paper fan with red kanji on it. The elderly woman was fashioned in an extravagant kimono, greying hair pinned up into the most peculiar and colourful hair piece Shikamaru has ever witnessed. It all must mean something, he knew. Nobody would dress in such a way without good reason.

Shikamaru shifts in his formal kneeling position on the one dollar embellished pillow, legs tingling.

"Yes." He nods. Trying to mentally convey with his eyes that this was indeed, a serious problem. And she was his only hope.

"Maa~" An eye peeks open. "A Nara, are you boy?"

Shikamaru straightens, beholden.

_How could she have known?_

"Yes."

The fan moves to her curving lips, "Demons are very violent and dark beings, getting rid of one will be understandably costly. Are you parents willing to pay the amount for their survival?"

"My father's Clan Head, he will do anything to keep me safe." Shikamaru states proudly. Immediately knowing he said the right thing as the shamanist lets out an excited, high-pitched giggle.

"Kukuku. Well now, no time to waste. eh~?"

Shikamaru nods eagerly, smile brimming. Truly, the woman must be experienced in battle to show so much confidence about exorcising a demon.

. - .

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you see happening next, my dear readers?


	8. Understand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [rambles]
> 
> I know, I know this is another dreadfully short chapter *sobs in horror* 
> 
> I have a case of writer's block...you know how it goes. It appears like a masked menace and swans you away by the tug of your hair. So right now I'm pulling at my roots and hoping to God that after releasing this chapter plot bunnies will all come hopping back to me. If you see me releasing new stories (to aid in my writing creativeness), don't worry. I have no intention to abandon this work cause honey I actually like this story. :D

**Yesterday.**

 

Shikaku didn’t end up having to go far in search for the Shaman’s house.

The moment he steps onto Konoha’s busy street, like fate shining down on him the ill sight of his son and a woman dressed head to toe in the most bizarrely flamboyant outfit he’s ever witnessed pass by him in a frenzied march.

He halts so suddenly the man behind him carting a harvest of corn has to rear left into a fish restaurant. Sending the tub of squid on display exploding to the floor and letting them loose on the patrons.

Shikaku is totally unaware of horrified screaming and apologies, along with the chef - in his surprise, accidentally knocking an uncapped bottle of oil onto exposed flame.

As the screams grow louder in pitch and volume, Shikaku's peripheral attention goes extinct. 

"Absolutely not."  

Shikamaru's rubbing his hands together in a muttered prayer.

_"Unthinkable."_

Posture bent in submission before the wild woman who chants like a cultist about to offer a sacrifice under the full moon. Waving about a dangerous stick of bells that jingle and jangle as though they were about to pop off and detonate onto somebody's forehead. Civilians and shinobi alike hurriedly split apart as she makes a chaotic path for herself and his all-too willing son. 

Shikaku’s face delves into an excellent study of blankness before extending an arm out and yanking his son back by the collar.

 “Ack!” 

 

. - .

**Now.**

 

A day had passed since the disastrous meeting with Lord Hokage. Or rather, Fugakū mournfully laments at the breakfast table - chopsticks stirring his miso soup with the energy of someone whose dog just died - the ominous _lack_ of a meeting.

What did it mean?

The Hokage doesn’t just _cancel_ meetings without perfect reason to.

His eyebrows drag each other together like forgotten lovers under the moonlight. 

_What’s the reason?_

 “Are you ill?” Mikoto asks suddenly.

Fugakū blinks himself out of his thoughts and inelegantly harrumphs confusion.

 “I called your name twice.”

“What’s that got to do with me being ill?”

“The only sign of life you were presenting were the never-ending circle of those crusty old chopsticks.” 

“Dear, we’ve been over this,” he laments. “They’re not old.”

“Itachi gave them to you when he was three for father’s day.” Mikoto states her case dryly, absently filling Sasuke’s rice bowl when the boy wasn’t looking. Too preoccupied in the whispering one-sided argument he was voyaging on Kento.

“It wasn’t that long ago.” He defends and continues to try and persuade Mikoto into leaving his chopsticks alone.

“Mum!” Sasuke’s hand slaps the table while the other presses against his twin’s face to stop him from lunging an attack. “Kento’s planning to see that weirdo friend of his today behind your back!”

At first Fugakū wonders who that ‘weirdo friend’ was, then it clicks like a katana being released from its holster and _swooshes_ as it slices his neck. 

“You will not.” He addresses Kento in aghast. Recalling last night’s talking to he gave his son before bed about ‘never seeing that boy again’ and ‘Kami-sama help me you’re to tell your mother and I who and when you’re seeing as long as I live and breathe’ with such ferociousness he almost froths. 

Kento gives him an expression his own father used to give when he said something utterly incomprehensible.

“Don’t give me that look, Kento,” he says, voice firm. 

It does nothing. 

Really, his son was impossible. Where did he get this attitude? Surely it’s from Mikoto’s side and not his. 

He tries again.

“Listen, son, you understand what I said last night, yes? 

“Oh yes,” Kento smiles.

Fugakū explains again. About how the Hokage will most likely call upon them if he continues to mingle with someone who’s un-mingleable.

  
Kento smiles serenely. “But of course.”

Fugakū doesn’t quite know what to say to that.

“So you agree.”

“Don’t see why not.”

“Utterly?”

“Completely.”

He squints at his son, having found Kento to never be this agreeable in his short life and feels incurably disturbed by it. He finds Mikoto’s gaze and discovers her feeling the complete opposite. 

She looked, by all devious intents and purposes,  _pleased_ by this turnover of attitude and rewarded Kento with more vegetables. 

Sometimes Fugakū doesn’t understand her 

Seeing he was about to squeeze Kento out, Mikoto steps over him and says, without any hint of remorse; 

“No need to do what your father asked of you Kento, go and see your friend. _Isaac_ was it? Not Naruto?” 

Fugakū's soul did not escape his body, rather it retreated into earth and greeted Hell with the fondness of an old friend.

 

. - .


End file.
